don't let it in with no intention to keep it, jesus christ, don't be kind to it. honey, don't feed it: it will come back.
HOZIER/ IT WILL COME BACK
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𓆩 Angel of small death. 𓆪
ROSY SANTOS has made a career out of pushing up daisies.
Or, at least, that's if you believe the rumours.
Rumour has it that she rose with the sun one morning, clawing her way up from hell and bursting into the world with fire. Hearsay says she skulked the world and set her eyes on the small town of Mystic Falls with the intent to destroy it from the inside out–– but that's just gossip.
With an easy smile and a shrug of their shoulders, the Peters-Santos household swears blind: they're just your average All-American family and Rosy is just your average neighbourhood sweetheart.
And she is, for the most part–– all aside from the fact that she was, definitely, once a very dead witch.
For real? Very real. Dead? Very dead.
The kind of dead that had left her with a blank mind and a confusion about what exactly had caused her to ascend the grave in small-town Virginia. Blinking once and twice and then finding herself a life in normality–– suddenly a suburban witch with more compassion can stomach.
What's worse than a dead girl walking than a dead girl walking desperate to find out who she once was?
But, the problem raises when Mystic Falls goes dark and the moon rises and magic comes out to play –– and Rosy realises that maybe asking questions about the past is a lot more dangerous than she would've thought. Sharp teeth, midnight incantations and an affinity for raising the dead. Dreams that don't make sense and faces that shouldn't be familiar... brothers and lookalikes and midnight revivals––
And that feeling that ticks by at the back of her head. Just a suspicion.
Just an inclination that things are about to turn darker... that she might not quite be what she thinks she always has been.
But one question prevails in the corner of her reflection...
Is everything really in the past, or is it tomorrow just begging to send her back to the grave?
